Some days I hate myself, scratch that, most days actually. I can feel myself crashing. I am questioning myself. Why did I even start? How did I go from that innocent little girl, always happy and giggling, to this? My therapist says I have a mental illness. He's leaning towards severe anxiety, but I don't think that I should be taking these pills like this. I don't even think that these pills should be making me feel this way. My hands are shaking. I am nauseous. I ran out of the bottle I was prescribed days ago. Why do I feel this way?

That's not even what matters right now. There is no time to ponder on my questions that I have no answer to. I need more. I need the high. This is not just a want anymore. Without these pills, I cannot go about my daily life. I can't bring myself to get out of bed. Living is becoming too much. I'm such a piece of shit. I feel like shit.

I am out of cash. My parents left me home alone. I am anxious. My friends no longer talk to me. Is it something about being ill and my life going down the drain or the scars upon my wrists that turn people away? I need to think harder. My mind is racing. I need to get more pills. I can't call my therapist. The bottle that should have lasted me through the month barely got me through a week and a half.

My head is pounding. Everything is spinning. I can't breathe. I'm pretty sure that the pounding noise I hear is my heart beat. When did everything get so messy? I manage to pry my useless self out of bed for two minutes to grab one of my dad's bottles of alcohol and snoop through my parents medicine cabinet to find anything that will give me even the slightest bit of relief.

I lay in bed and take my cocktail of substances to try to turn off the voices in my head. I hate myself. I am disgusting. I can't see straight. I take another sip and then another until the pounding in my head goes away. I drank like I didn't want to see tomorrow. I didn't, but instead I just puked my brains out onto the floor next to my bed. My room is filled with a raunchy nauseating odor that I have no time to deal with. My thoughts are subsiding and everything is going black. The thing about drinking is that I won't remember a thing tomorrow. It's a glorious thing to forget. Yet, I think the best of all is that everything is going silent.